The following letter was written by Charles Wilber (1840-1922) who mustered into Co. G, 1st Michigan Cavalry, in September 1861 when he was 20 years old. Charles was residing in Pontiac before he enlisted. He enlisted as a private and mustered out as a sergeant in 1865.

Charles’ 1922 death certificate (Reno, Nevada) states that his father’s name was Herman Wilber but I believe that it was Hiram or Horace (b. 1805) and his mother’s name was Malinda Roberts. The vital information on Malinda’s death was provided by Sanford H. Wilber (1833-1917)—the oldest child of the family and the one to whom Charles addressed this letter. In 1860, Charles lived with his parents at White Lake, Oakland county, Michigan in 1860. Sanford was married to Lucretia Jane Downer (1829-1901). At the time of this letter, Sanford was working at a sawmill in Oakland county, Michigan.

Charles mentions another brother in this letter named William. William Wilber (1838-1862) enlisted as a private in Co. F, 1st Michigan Infantry and was killed on 30 August 1862 at the 2nd Battle of Bull Run.

[This letter is from the personal collection of Greg Herr and was made available for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.]

Transcription

Charleston, Virginia
March 3, 1862

Well, Sanford, I once more write to you to let you know my welfare. We crossed the [Potomac] river last week and stayed one night in Harper’s Ferry and then we came down to Charleston in the morning. There was some rebel troops here but we soon put them to flight and took possession of the town and captured one horse from them. We have been staying here ever since. We have been out scouting every day. The first day (that was the day we came here) we took 50 barrels of flour and 10 horses, two wagons and drivers, and then at night they drove in our pickets and took two of our men of our company. Then the next day we took two more of their men and horses and they got one of our horses. And yesterday we took one man. He was in a farm house. We surrounded it and took him out and have him in jail. It makes the people stare when we go into the houses after the men.

We don’t have much time to write and if we had, there has not been any mail here till yesterday. The people here are hard up for groceries. There has not been any here since last June. Everything that they have to eat is eaten without salt. We have lived right well since we came here. Our flour that we took and their bakery and we run that and there is a good supply of poultry here and then we have a hog and a sheep once and a while and sometimes twice in a while.

Well, I’ll be damned if I feel like writing this morning. I don’t see what is the reason for I feel as well as I ever did in my life and there is enough to write about. But somehow or other I don’t feel like writing. You can see that by the way I write.

I guess William is sick of his bargain by the way he writes. There has been some talk of their regiment coming here. I hope they will and then I could cheer him up for I think he is rather down at the mouth and I don’t blame him for it for if we had stayed at Washington till this time, I should have been dead for it is a sickly hole there [even] if the President does live there. There is no place like this for we have everything our own way and no one to opoose us. I like it better than I did at Harper’s Ferry for there was not any chickens there for the people had all left. There is not seven families in the whole place on this side of the river.

I wish you would send me some envelopes for there is not any here and my things all got stole on the raid here. Joe Robert Bachman and myself had ours in a box and the box was broke open and taken out—all our shirts and stockings. All we have left is what we have on our backs. But we will not suffer for there is enough here and I’ll have some of them. If I don’t, I’ll lose my guess. Well, I have written about enough for this time. You must write often and I write as often as I can.

Direct the same as before and they will be sent on here or anywhere that we go. No more at present. I remain your affectionate brother, — Charles Wilber

P. S. This card is the hotel where we stay now.